The Princess of Thieves
by SpeakUpAndFaceTheMusic
Summary: A woman with an unknown past hides her child in the Court of Miracles. When the King of Gypsies takes her in as his own daughter, the young Prince becomes very close to his adopted sister as the years go by.
1. All I Ask of You

The woman entered the catacombs carrying a small bundle. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her without tripping on the wet ground. As she entered the heart of tunnels, men popped out from the skeletons, but this did not frighten her, she expected them.

"And just who are you?" One man asked.

The woman showed her face, her bright blue eyes glowing in the light. "Isabella Mare LaFille. I am here to see the King." Her Irish accent slightly coming out.

"Ah, I see. Well, come along, Madame." The one skeleton man led her into blinding brightness called the Court of Miracles.

"The King is in that cart right there, Madame." She nodded, "But please, try not to stay long, King Reginald is very busy these days and does not wish to be bothered most of the time."

Isabella nodded once more and let the man leave her. She sucked in a deep breath and let a few stray tears fall as she held the bundle even closer to her chest. Summoning all of her strength, she knocked on the door of the cart.

"…Yes?" A stony reply came. The woman walked into the cart slowly.

The King looked up from his position, slightly glaring at Isabella. "What is it you need, Madame?"

"You are the King of Beggars, Monsieur?"

"I am."

"Thank the Lord," She began to cry more openly now. "King of Gypsies, I need your help, please. I hear that you are responsible for taking care of our people?"

"Yes, you have heard right."

She sighed in relief. "Then you will help me?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but nodded. "I am not safe here, I have gone to painful lengths to keep myself safe for many years. My husband is a guard, sir, he will not hear of it if he finds out that his daughter is a full bred gypsy. Accidents have been made, accidents that are not my daughter's fault. She is in danger more so than I. I beg of you to help her; take care of her, I beg you…"

"Madame, I do not see why--"

"Please! This is all I ask of you. Please, keep my daughter safe, keep my baby safe."

He huffed. "I most certainly cannot deny such a request, Madame. I shall keep your child safe, and she will be raised here in safety. I will personally see to that."

A small boy then popped his head out of a section of the cart. He examined the woman with curiosity. He slowly walked out, his thin body making him look tall and lanky. His eyes were very dark, his hair was down to his shoulders, and his nose was a bit to big for a boy of approximately his age.

"Papa, what is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, Clopin. Please return to your chores, son." The boy shrugged and went back behind the scarf covered door.

"As I was saying," The King continued, "I will personally raise your child, but she will be treated as everyone else here. I hope that is clear…And, I do not want hear that information has been given to a certain Judge about our home or who is next in line to take charge of that home." He raised his eyebrows, "Because then we shall have to snuff out the traitor."

"I do understand this, sir. Thank you so much! You are kind and just, King of Beggars. Thank you…" She hugged the bundle once more. "Her name is Marianne Juliet, she is a quiet baby, I thank you again…"

She kissed the child, handed him the bundle and left the caravan, running out of the Court, catacombs, and into the cold November night, weeping for her daughter. She would not see her child again…

Young Clopin Trouillefou walked, once more, to his father, peeking over his shoulder. He was much to quick-witted and curious for a mere boy of six years and wanted to know what his father was doing.

"What are you holding, Papa?" he asked, eyeing the bundle.

The King sighed, pulling the young Prince close to him. "Clopin, did you ever want a little sister?" He asked.

"Well, I never thought about it before…I suppose it wouldn't be to bad. Why?"

"Son, you now have one. This is little Marianne Juliet. She is the newest member to our family. Take a look."

Clopin slightly moved the blankets to see the small child. The little baby's eyes opened, glazed with sleep. Her electric blue eyes looked right into his deep, dark brown ones and he smiled. The child cried out slightly, reaching for the young boy. Clopin took the baby in his arms, cradling her back to sleep as a small smile caressed her lips.

"She is pretty. I could actually get used to this "brother" business." He began humming one of his mother's lullaby's. "Yes, I think I like this very much, Papa. Sleep well, little Marianne Juliet, sleep well, little sister."

And with that, little Clopin took the baby away from his father and into his room to care for.


	2. Little Sister

**Thanks to the one review I got---thanks, MoonEy! Hope ya'll like this one! **

**Disclaimer: I, sadly, DO NOT own HoND (Disney or Victor Hugo) or any of its characters. I do own Marianne and the other made-up characters that come along! **

**Seven Years Later…**

"Blessed Christ!"

A woman yelled out from the middle of the square. Thirteen year old Clopin Trouillefou ran through the crowds of gypsies heckling with each other and selling goods. He ran directly into a petite woman ready to buy some pots, knocking her to the ground in a heap.

"Terribly sorry, Madame Kalle!" Clopin shouted as he slammed his way through more people.

Before he could get a few feet further, though, a meaty hand wrapped around his forearm. He turned around and groaned when he saw Madame LaFua looking sternly at him. He laughed nervously as the woman scrutinized him with distain.

"Good morning, Madame!" He said, hoping his usual charm would work. "How are you today?"

"Clopin Trouillefou," she said sternly. So much for the charm… "Just what in heaven's name are you doing?"

"Well, you see, Marianne is out and about and I am to keep an eye on her and you know that she likes to play games, and that she can be rather tricky--"

"You lost track of your sister, didn't you?"

"No! Why would you think that? I was only…" he trailed off.

"Flirting with more girls? Let me see, I believe today I saw you with Lena Lemont by her tent. Oh, and she is two years your younger, try to at least flirt with girls your age. And, oh, right, Marianne was not with you. Hmmm, what on Earth could this mean?"

"That Lena is much to talkative?"

"Don't give me that cheek, young Prince."

"Madame, please do not call me "Prince" it is quite regal and snobby." He scrunched up his nose with annoyance.

"Clopin, we have been over this time and time again. You are a Pri--"

"Clopy! Clopy!" A high voice cut off Madame LaFua's lecture. "Where are you slowpoke?" Marianne giggled and then suddenly snatched his over-sized purple hat off his head, running off.

Clopin rolled his eyes. "Do you see what I mean? Now, Marianne, get back here with my hat! Hey, don't--no--put that down, Mari, come now…AH! Why you little…"

Marianne was rolling on the ground laughing, now wearing Clopin's hat, when he returned to her, dripping wet. He glared at the giggling girl, trying to remain angry, but was failing.

"Alright, you," He pulled the girl up, brushing her chestnut hair out of her tan face. "I believe this is mine," he grabbed the hat and neatly placed it on his head. "And I believe you are coming home."

"Aw, but the hat looks better on me! And I want to stay here, it's more fun, and Esmeralda is going to dance with me later!"

"I don't think so, chere fille. I will not be dragged around by silly girls all day."

"Yes, yes you will, Clopy. And I am not silly." She demanded.

He huffed. "Mari, follow my finger." He waved his gloved finger in her face and she watched it intently. Without warning, he slapped her lightly on the face with the other hand, making her jump back in surprise. "I don't think so. And yes, you are silly."

She pouted. "But Papa said you have to watch me today, and that means going with me wherever I go."

"Or, it means I can take you back to the tent and you can play with the puppets!" He said, trying to make her come with him.

"Nope." He rolled his eyes.

"Alright, chere fille, what is it you wish to do?"

"Dance with Esmeralda!" She clapped her hands.

"And you say you are not silly?" He tapped her nose. In return, she tried to throw a punch at him, but missed and he put his hand out to push against her head as she attempted to charge him. "You are not able to beat me, and I don't think you ever will. I am just to quick!"

"You are not. You couldn't catch me today. And you never will, because I am to quick! Your name shouldn't be Clopin, it should be Slowpin!" She taunted him playfully.

"Hmmm, I believe now is story time…" Marianne smiled as he began to tell his story.

"Once there was a girl who lived with her brother. She was very silly and very saucy. Her brother was brave and very, very handsome. One day, the little girl wanted to be sneaky and run away from her brother. But her brother was smarter and, as I said before, much better looking. So, he decided to beat her and run away first. Do you know what happened?" Marianne shook her head. "He ran!" Clopin was off in a dash, leaving Marianne behind.

"Hey! That's not fair!" She began to chase him.

They both ran threw the streets of the Court of Miracles, bumping into people, tripping over stones, but still laughing the entire time. Clopin received very disgusted looks from the elderly women he almost toppled over and Marianne just about hit a man carrying chickens. When both children reached Esmeralda's tent, it was found empty. A small note was left at the base of a pole.

Dear Marianne,

So sorry, but I can't teach you any new dances today. My auntie needed me to help her today up above. Tomorrow, though, we will dance until our feet cannot dance any more. I promise you!

~Esmeralda

"Aw, well it seems that today, we get to do what I want to do! Isn't that wonderful?" Clopin exclaimed.

"Yes, wonderful," Marianne muttered.

"So, let's see, I have to go up and earn some money today…" He watched Marianne for her reaction.

"We get to go into town! Really?"

"Of course, but I do need some help. I am going to be playing some music, but I need a dancer…where shall I find one?"

"Clopin, I can dance! I am very good at dancing! Please, please take me to town with you!"

"Ah, Mari, well, since you asked I suppose it could not hurt."

"Yay! Thank you Clopy!" She hugged him tightly and was very difficult to remove from his waist.

When both children reached the city, the bells of Notre Dame were ringing loudly and Marianne looked up in wonder at the large cathedral. The bells continued ringing and the little girl stayed rooted where she stood, mesmerized by their chiming and booming.

"Mari, come along, we must go. It is getting late in the afternoon." Clopin began pulling her further into the city, but she remained looking at the bell tower. "Mari, hello?" She looked at him suddenly and blinked. "You looked like you were in a trance," he laughed, making her blush. "Come, we must earn a few coins today."

Clopin pulled out a flute, playing it lightly, while Marianne began to dance. A small sack was placed on the ground for coins. After a few minutes of performing, several coins had been thrown into the sack. Marianne smiled with pride as Clopin began playing faster, and she picked up the beat of her dancing. She was so happy that she did not see the guards coming towards her, hands on their swords. Luckily, Clopin noticed them and grabbed the sack and his sister and ran from the square.

"Hey, you!" A guard yelled. Marianne risked a glance back and saw one of them looking…at her.

The man was looking at her with shock and interest, but remained chasing her and Clopin. The guard watching Marianne had a small brown, slightly graying beard, and was big, very tall and had a lot of armor. She gasped in fear as they closed in on her and ran faster.

They eventually lost both soldiers running down an alley and hiding behind barrels of ale. Clopin decided to take Marianne back to the Court of Miracles. She argued, but he remained firm.

"I think we have had enough excitement for one day," he told her. "And it's almost supper time. We had fun today, yes?" She nodded, her blue eyes sparkling. "And now it's time to settle down a bit."

They returned home, and had their dinner. Their father was out in the catacombs tonight, making sure no one who stumbled upon the Court would leave unscathed. When Clopin was telling stories with the puppets to Marianne, a loud cheering erupted from outside. Clopin walked out to see what the commotion was when he heard the famous words spoken.

"Justice is swift in the Court of Miracles, I am your Judge and shall execute you as well. Trials are useless and the sentence is the most fun! Tonight you will hang!" He had to remind his father to make this speech more exciting and appealing to everyone.

"Mari, come! There is a hanging! Let's go see!"

They both pushed their way through the crowd and to the front and saw three guards standing on the platform with nooses around their necks. Marianne smiled when she saw King Reginald slightly taunting the men ready to die.

"Well, well, well. Look who's on the other side of the law now, boys! You did not think it would end this way, did you? Ha! You thought wrong, oh innocent servants of Judge Frollo and God…"

"Ah, Clopin. I do not think Marianne should be here." Madame LaFua pulled him aside.

"Why ever not? She has never attended a hanging before!"

"Clopin, do you see that man up there? That man in the middle?" Clopin looked up at the stage to see a man standing there, coldness and pride in his face and eyes.

"Yes, what of him?"

"That man ready to die was in search of the Court, obviously, but I believe that he was in search of someone hiding out in this court."

"And who is he looking for?"

"A certain woman hiding herself and a gypsy love-child." She raised her eyebrow.

It took a moment before this registered with Clopin. His eyes widened and he ran back to his sister.

"They know?"

"I believe so…This is not for your young ears. Your father can handle things, but you do know how rumors and stories start, if her real father knew about this…" She let the sentence hang, refusing to say anything else.

"I see, alright, we'll leave." Clopin turned back to his sister, who was smiling and standing on her toes to get a better view.

"Mari, I do not think you should be here now. It is very late, and I wish to show you something."

"Clopin, This is my first hanging. I want to watch." She resumed watching as the King began to pull the lever. Clopin winced as Marianne watched with wonder while he tired to stay calm, now knowing that the guards knew about Marianne's mother.

It was then that the lever was pulled. The men hung, each neck breaking, no one having to suffer any longer. Marianne clapped and cheered with the rest of the crowd while Clopin grimaced.

Clopin quietly led Marianne back to the tent as soon as the crowds began to clear. There was no need to stay any longer. Once they reached the tent he put on a smile for the small girl.

"Alright," he said, "that was an exciting day, huh?"

"Sure, sure…It was fun…" Marianne yawned.

"And now I think it's time for bed."

"No. I'm not sleepy." She rubbed her eyes.

"Oh, really? Is that so?" She nodded. "Than why, chere fille, are you yawning?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "That sort of thing is common."

"I am sure. Now get ready for bed." She pouted, but went and grabbed a nightgown and left to put it on. When she returned, her hair was tied up and she plopped down on the bed next to Clopin.

"What do you want to do now?" she said, playing with the loose ends of her hair.

"Well, because there won't be an obvious answer to that," he said sarcastically.

She simply shrugged again and yawned. Clopin smiled and pulled her close. He began singing softly into her ear.

_Little child, sitting here, stay silent, now, don't cry. Rest your little head on my shoulder, I shall keep you safe. _

_Small child, do not be afraid; do not be scared, I will be here. _

_You will always be safe when I'm around, I will hug you close. Now rest your tired little head on my shoulder and I shall sing you to sleep, little child. _

_Dear girl, you are so kind and good. I shall keep you safe._

_Small child, do not be afraid; do not be scared, I will be here._

_Kind girl, rest now, child, I will be with you, you have nothing to fear._

Marianne's eyes grew heavy and she yawned again, leaning into her brother. He rocked her gently and continued singing. She looked up at him through bleary blue eyes.

"I'm…not…sleepy."

He smiled, "I know, Mari, I know."

She sighed and put her head on his chest. "I love you, Clopin." She mumbled.

"I love you too, Mari. Good night, chere fille."

"Hey," she said, "not…sleepy…nope…"

He laughed to himself as she closed her eyes and fell asleep. He did not move, though, he stayed and hummed to her that night, as he did many nights. Just as he did the first night he met his little sister.


	3. A Long Day

**Hey, I'm back! Thanks to all that reviewed, it means quite a lot! I finally got the hang of all of this uploading nonsense, so we should be good!**

**~Ok, there were questions as to why Madame LeFua wanted Marianne out of the hanging sight once the men were hung in Chap 2. That was a screw up on my part, it wasn't explained the way I wanted it to be. You see, that's just her character, very strict, over protective, and practical. She just wanted to stay on the safe side even if Marianne was safe. The rest of that little confusing tidbit will be cleared up in later chapters.~ Sorry! **

**Disclaimer: Victor Hugo and Disney Corparations own HoND, NOT ME! (unfortunately). I do own my made-up characters--they are mine, you cannot have them! **

* * *

**Ten Years Later---Present Day: **

Marianne sat on the balcony of Notre Dame, watching all of the people below her.

_"The people in the square all look so small…like ants."_ She thought.

Marianne looked towards the bottom of Notre Dame and saw a brightly colored cart sitting there. She laughed to herself, thinking about Clopin and how he scared the children the other day by telling the tale of Quasimodo, making them run away from the cathedral when the large wooden doors opened. Now she could see some people gathered by the cart, no doubt listening to one of The Gypsy King's stories.

"It is rather beautiful, isn't it?" Marianne turned to see Quasimodo behind her.

"Yes, it truly is…"

When she was twelve, Marianne snuck away from Clopin, who was, as always, supposed to be watching her. But she got away and went into Notre Dame to explore. When she was young, Marianne heard the story of Quasimodo the Hunchback of Notre Dame and wanted to see him for herself. That's when she met the older boy. He was not the most…attractive person she'd ever met, but he was the most kind-hearted . They've been pretty good friends ever since. She gave him human companionship and he gave her an insight into the world and wonder around her. It was a gentle friendship, but a friendship none the less.

"Hey, Quasi, you know that the Feast of Fools is coming up. You should go! Clopin will be his usual off-the-wall self, but I know that there will dancing, games, lots of food, it'll be really fun."

"I don't think that's the best of ideas, Mari."

"Aw, come now, you know you want to go. Nothing is going to happen and I know you'll have a good time. You need to get out of here once in a while…"

"Master forbids me from leaving my Sanctuary." He said with a hint of remorse in his voice.

"Quasimodo, you do know that this "Sanctuary" isn't a haven unless there is something you need to be protected from?"

"This protection is from the outside world. I am ugly, a monster, I do not belong down there."

"Are you going to listen to Frollo for your whole life, or are you going to do something that you wish to do for once?" She scoffed.

"Mari, it is not that simple. You know that I am not…normal."

"And you think I am? Quasi, I'm a gypsy, I am always discriminated against, not considered normal by a long shot. And, hey, if everyone was normal there would be no normal."

He mulled this over for a moment. "I don't know. I'm going to think about it for now. Master will let me know if it's a good idea."

"I am sure he will…" she muttered. "Oh, speak of the devil!" She pointed down to an iron carriage stopping at the doors. "I should go before I'm caught up here. I'll see you later, Quasi! Remember what I said!"

"I will, bye!" He called as she ran down the stone steps.

She entered the chapel and slowed to a reverent walk passing the altar and candles. On her way out, she passed Frollo and kept her head down as he looked ahead, not giving her a second thought. Thank the good Lord…

When she reached the outside doors, Marianne walked over to the cart where Clopin was just finishing a story.

"And that, dear children, is the end of our story!"

"But-but we don't even know what happened!" One girl said.

"Yes, well, that is the point. You must figure out what you would do if you were the maid servant. So, when you see me next time, tell me what you would've done and we will end the story. Farewell, children!"

Marianne walked over to the cart and picked up one of the puppets.

"Do not tell me you told them that old "fair maid" story again."

"Alright then, I shall not tell you." He smiled widely.

"You tell that silly old tale almost every week! And you weren't even clever enough to add an ending. I'm surprised the children haven't mutinied you yet."

"Yes, yes, Clopin!" His mini-me puppet was now on his hand, squawking away. "The children shall have you hanged if you droll on the same old story!"

"Hush, silly boy. I am merely doing my duty as an entertainer."

"No, you are boring the children with stories of wonder and mystery! How dare you!"

"Now you know that I am one of the best story tellers in Paris!"

"I'm sure you are…"

"Clopin--" Marianne started.

"Excuse me, but we are talking here. If you do not mind." He continued talking away to his little piece of cloth.

"Alright, I guess I just have to go vandalize Notre Dame…" He didn't pay her any mind. "Fine. Then I shall steal twenty loaves of bread right in front of the bakers eyes!" Nothing. "Never mind, Clopin. I'll just go seduce Frollo now." She casually walked away.

"Oh, that is nice…WHAT?!"

"Ah, now you listen." She smirked. "I guess I hit a soft spot, didn't I?"

"No, you hit the Mari-needs-to-stop-saying-that spot." He growled. "That sick Judge is not coming within fifty yards of you, Mari."

"Well, I suppose that shall be a problem, because I am dancing in the Feast of Fools." He eyed her.

"No, Esmeralda is dancing in the Feast of Fools, you are playing those lovely little instruments of yours."

"Clopin! I can dance you know! And I know that if you just give me a chance I'll be great, you know that just as Esmeralda knows it, as Papa knew it."

"Father did not agree to letting you dance in any festival of any sort."

Since Clopin's "coronation" he had been calling their Papa "Father" mainly out of reverence for his father's name. Though, when he was named King at the young age of fifteen, he needed to show the gypsies that he was a strong person. Silly names for parents did not apply under the category of "King."

"Aw, come on! I get to dance in the streets--"

"Rarely."

"As I was saying," she snapped, "I get to dance in the streets, why not for the good old Judge himself?"

"Because I would prefer my sister to remain pure, and dancing in front of Frollo and the entire city will not help my preference for your…personal affairs."

"And just how, dear brother, do you know that I am pure?"

He merely quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, please, it's not like you are!" His other eyebrow reached the same height as the first, matching it in an equal status of irritation and smugness.

"I pray I will never hear those two sentences again. Or at least hear them at a lower level of volume."

"Clopin…" Mari gave him her "I know what you did" look.

"My personal affairs are not the focus of this discussion." He waved his hand dismissively. "What I want to know is, why you are so adamant on dancing in this year's festival."

She groaned and leaned against his cart. "I just want to do something other than play all of those instruments. They get quite old after a while." She held up her means of pay for the day, a fiddle.

"Oh, and you think that getting the entire town to focus on different activities is such a wonderful job?! You should think again, chere fille!"

She rolled her eyes and played a sad tune on the fiddle while looking serious. Clopin merely grinned from ear to ear, showing slightly chipped canines, and laughed, making her laugh as well.

"Now, let's see here…" he counted the coins in his small side pocket. "I have made quite a bit of pay out of the "fair maid" story. I suppose the children are not quite ready to mutiny me."

She just sighed and rolled her eyes once more. "Forgive me, King of Beggars," She knew he hated being addressed that way, "for I have committed a terrible act of misjudgment. Do not punish me." She bowed.

"You know, I thought that you were adorable once…Now I see sisters that are adorable you must also be irritating."

Marianne made a throw at him, but he dodged it quickly and continued dodging her as she tried to get a swipe at him. He finally grabbed her wrist and spun her around, making her loose her balance.

"Ah, I see I beat you once again. Haven't you learned, chere fille? No one can beat Clopin Trouillefou!" He laughed triumphantly. She just narrowed her eyes.

"Maybe if you didn't bounce all around the bloody street I could get a few good hits in."

"Maybe…highly doubtful, but maybe." He grinned mischievously.

"Fine. You beat me. I am going to go earn some money with my "lovely little instruments" now."

"I will see you later!" He called as she entered the crowds.

Marianne walked through hoards of people, coming to a stop by an alleyway and through down her old sack and played her fiddle while dancing along to it. Quickly as you please, coins were being thrown at the sack on the ground.

Here we go, left, back, up, right, left, left, right, up, back, left. Sidestep, spin, jump, sidespin, right, right, left, back… She recited the dance moves in her head as the tune flowed throughout the air. It was a simple dance to her, but to the local passerby it was a spectacle of wonder and beauty.

When she finally finished the song, she gathered up her coins and made her way back to the Court. It was the middle of the afternoon and she wanted to do some heckling down below with some merchant friends.

On her way out of the city, Marianne ran directly into a solid form, her sack falling to the ground, spare coins popping out. She grabbed the coins, sack, and fiddle and shot upright. When she looked up, Marianne saw the figure she had slammed into.

"So sorry sir--" She gasped when the guard showed his face. "Oh!" She got up and began to run.

The guard, though, was quicker. He grabbed her forearm and threw her to the ground. She yelped when her back hit the cobblestone street.

"Well, it looks like I have a little gypsy vermin caught in my net!" He laughed, sending a shiver down Marianne's spine. "Come on, you. We're gonna' take ya' down to the Palace O' Justice." The man yanked her off the ground, twisting her arm, making a bruise.

"I have done nothing wrong!" She pulled against his grip, but he held tighter.

"I'm sure ya' didn't, gypsy." She pulled harder, but to no avail. Then she kicked him in the knee, causing him to yell out. "Why you little devil!" He hit right across the face.

Marianne felt the hard contact of a bare hand with her temple. She slowly turned her head, dazed for a moment as he dragged her down the street. She kicked at the guard best she could while the guard pulled her along.

"Let go of me, you brute! I haven't committed a crime!"

"Shut your yap, gypsy." He snarled.

"Help! Help! This man is a liar, he is!" She managed to get the attention of people around her, hoping the guard would reconsider.

"Will you shut up!" He hit her again, knocking her to the ground. Marianne could feel trickles of blood run down her face and her back and arms began to sting.

With her vision blurring, she saw a new, bright figure approach her. It was a few moments of confusion before the shapes slowly took form. The guard was gone and the bright, blurry figure eased her off of the ground. It hurt, but Marianne got to her feet and blinked. There, standing in front of her was Clopin, eyebrows, as always, raised.

"Marianne," he said gently, "are you alright?"

She laughed nervously. "Uh, yeah…yeah, I-I'm fine." She laughed again. He eyed her.

"You are bleeding."

"It's a scratch."

"There is a gap on your forehead."

"It's a flesh wound."

"Mhmm. Is that so? A flesh wound?"

"Yes, see," she pulled back her long hair, "nothing."

Clopin frowned. The gash was long and deep, slowly healing, but disturbing and unsafe. He moved a gloved hand to her cheek and then touched the wound, making her yelp and flinch back. Tears were silently falling and she hastily wiped them away, her hand shaking.

"Let's get you home, child."

"No. I am fine. You should get back to the children anyways. I can make it home myself, Clopin."

"No, I do not think you can. Come," he held her forearm, "You can barely walk."

He led her to the entrance of the Court of Miracles, slowly making their way down the staircase. Marianne stumbled a bit, but remained steady for dignity's sake. Clopin was not convinced by a long shot that she was alright, and his focus kept darting back to her to see if she was alright. Halfway through the catacombs, Marianne gasped and swayed. Clopin caught her, alarmed.

"Mari, Mari, are you alright?"

Her eyes fluttered open. "Yes, I am fine, just let me walk…" She stood up, but then fell again.

"I think that wound is worse than you let on…" Clopin let the sentence trail off as Marianne struggled to stand up.

After a moment, Clopin picked Marianne up and carried her through the catacombs, rushing to get back to the Court of Miracles. When he nearly reached the entrance, the guards in their skeleton costumes stopped him.

"Halt--Ah, Clopin, it's you." He looked at Marianne, limp in his arms. "Is Miss Marianne alright?"

"She is wounded, but she'll be fine. I'll just patch her up and she'll be her old self again." He smiled as the guard bid him a goodnight.

When they reached the tent, Clopin laid Marianne down on cushions and sheets, gently pulling her light chestnut hair from her face. She stirred, but didn't wake, and Clopin grabbed anything he had to heal his sister's gash.

He used a bottle of whiskey he had lying around--for special occasions, of course. When he put it on a cloth and dabbed Marianne's forehead with it, she opened her eyes, moaning in pain.

"W-what are you doing?" She said, her voice a whisper.

"Fixing your injury, chere fille."

"It hurts," she whined.

"I know. It's going to hurt for a few more minutes." He grabbed a string and needle, ready to start stitching.

"Oh no…that's going to hurt…"

"I know. Just relax and it'll be over with."

Clopin did his best to ignore his sister's moans and cries of pain as he closed up the gash in her head. It took a while to finish, with her squirming throughout the entire thing. A thin layer of sweat covered her face and her eyes were glazed with confusion and pain.

"Mari, child, are you alright?"

It took a moment for the comment to register in her confused brain. She looked up at Clopin, her eyes unfocused.

"Ah, yes…I feel okay…" She now sounded dreamy and dazed.

He sighed with relief. At least she was only a bit loopy, with no permanent damage. Clopin put some blankets around her, brushing sticky pieces of hair out of her face.

"Clopin, will you stay?"

"Of course. I hope you are alright, Mari."

"I'm alright, better actually. I feel really good…" She giggled.

"Mari, I think that head injury is finally kicking in."

"Head? What head? Head rhymes with bed. Bed, head, bed, head, bed, head…"

Clopin only rolled his eyes and watched her mumble the little rhyme for about five minutes. Marianne giggled some more before stopping and yawned.

"I'm tired…"

"Then get some rest."

"I'm afraid, though."

"Afraid of what?"

"Bad dreams. They are not nice, not nice."

"You won't have any bad dreams, chere fille."

"Promise?"

"I promise," he said gently.

"Okay. And Clopin?"

"Yes?"

"I am going to kick that guard's ass when I go back into the city. Brutes."

With that, her eyes closed and she settled into even breaths. Clopin laughed and watched her sleep. Same old Mari…

"What happened now?"

Clopin turned around to see Esmeralda standing in the entrance to his tent, eyebrows raised.

"We had a bit of trouble with the guards."

"I see. Well, Mari seems to have had a lot of excitement tonight."

"I think she did."

They both broke into laughter, easily breaking the tension.

**Thanks for reading! Please, criticism and compliments are greatly needed! RXR PLEASE!!!**

**I remain, readers, your humble servant**

**~SpeakUpAndFaceTheMusic**


	4. The Festival of Fools

**Heeeelllllooooo! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. It's been crazy with school...and Christmas. So, here is chapter 4! Enjoy! **

**Oh! And quick question for the day....if you can answer it!!! **

**_What was the original name of Esmeralda's "husband"? _**

**Yes, it is an easy question, I just get bored....**

* * *

It had been a week and a half since Marianne's encounter with the guard. Her head was now almost fully healed and she was back on the streets, earning money like everyday. With a flute in hand, she made her way over to Clopin's cart, while he was preparing for the Feast of Fools.

Clopin was talking to a man with a long, blonde beard when Marianne arrived at his cart. The man was wearing a long robe that was a dull black color and he handed Clopin a sack of gold coins. Marianne watched as the two men made an exchange and the man was off with a bag of things.

"Finally sell that puppet, brother?" She asked as he pocketed the money. He looked up at her and smiled.

"Sell me? Sell me? I am the star of the show! I am Clopin's favorite puppet! He would not sell me for anything!" the puppet said as he popped up.

"Hush, silly boy," he thwacked the piece of cloth on the head, "you know dear Mari is only joking. Or is she…?" The puppet squeaked and Clopin put him away.

"So…how are preparations going? Everything topsy-turvy and out of order?"

"Just about. I just have to get little Joni to--Mari, what are you wearing?" He hopped over the ledge of his cart and eyed her clothing.

"Oh! Do you like it? I made the skirt myself, and the shoes were Esmeralda's old ones. She let me have them. Isn't it wonderful?"

Clopin looked at his little sister wearing a long, red skirt that had white stripes going down the middle and hugged her legs rather closely. She had on a corset, snug as well, with a black, long-sleeved shirt that peaked out over the corset. Her eyes had on a thin layer of mascara and liner while her lips were slightly covered in pink, while her long, light hair was perfectly straight and landed at her waist. He did notice her earring that was large and gold that neatly hung by her cheek, while her other ear had smaller golden studs in it. Her bangles were purple and blue with sliver lining them and she had on similar ankle bracelets.

She did look beautiful. Very beautiful. Oh, yes, he'd have to keep an eye on this girl from now on…

"You look nice. But, I don't think appropriate considering you are around all of these men," he teased, but she just rolled her eyes.

"Well, considering no men will really get to see me today, there is not problem."

"Point taken," he said dryly, "alright, instrument of the day?"

Marianne pulled a flute out of her sleeve, smiling. "I can easily play this while dancing, you know."

"And when will you be dancing?"

"The same time you will be prancing around Paris like the Village Idiot."

"Cheeky girl. I do suppose you will be wonderful, however, many people would be disappointed if the "Idiot" crushed their hopes by not stealing the spotlight." He flashed a pose, making Marianne laugh.

"Well, I suppose now is the best time to tell you…" Marianne played with the reed of her flute while looking at Clopin warily.

"Tell me what?"

"That Natasha rolled her ankle practicing back flips and she said I could dance in her place." She said this quickly, slightly blushing.

"Ah, you mean to the left of the stage?"

"Yes."

"Where the food and drink are being served?"

"Yes."

"Where rum-filled, drunken men will be falling over you?"

"I see where you're going with this you know," she snapped.

"I'm only curious."

"Mhmm. I'm sure you are," she looked at him with raised eyebrows and he only smiled.

"Just don't trip," Marianne narrowed her eyes. "Well, I best be off, the Festival starts soon and I need to prepare!" With that, he disappeared in puff of smoke.

"I hate it when he does that."

Marianne walked through the crowds as the music began to play. She did simple folk dances, receiving many coins and applause in return. It was only when the crowd began to cheer Marianne stopped dancing and pushed her way to the front.

-

_Come one!_

_Come all!_

_Leave your loops and milking stools_

_Coop the hens and pen the mules_

_Come one! _

_Come all!_

_Close the churches and the schools_

_It's the day for breaking rules! _

_Come and join the feast of…_

Then she saw her brother pop into view. "FOOLS!" He began singing the festival's song and danced along to the tune.

_Once a year we throw a party here in town_

_Once a year we turn all Paris upside down_

_Ev'ry man's a king and ev'ry king's a clown_

_Once again it's Topsy Turvy Day_

_It's the day the devil in us gets released_

_It's the day we mock the prig and shock the priest_

_Ev'rything is topsy turvy at the Feast of Fools!_

_Topsy turvy!_

_Everything is upsy daysy_

_Topsy turvy!_

_Everyone is acting crazy_

_Dross is gold and and weeds are a bouquetThat's the way on topsy turvy day_

_Topsy turvy!_

_Beat the drums and blow the trumpets_

_Topsy turvy!_

_Join the bums and thieves and strumpetsStreaming in from Chartres to CalaisScurvy knaves are extra scurvyOn the sixth of januaryAll because it's topsy turvy day!_

Marianne quickly grabbed her flute and began dancing again. She watched as the crowd died down a bit as a large carriage pulled into view. Three guards and the Captain surrounded it, all on horses. Judge Claude Frollo stepped out of the carriage and walked onto the front of the stage, sitting on a large, brightly colored chair.

"Why does he even bother coming to the Festival? It looks if he's about ready to gag with disgust," a voice behind Marianne said. She turned to see a tall, blonde haired boy talking with an equally tall red haired boy.

"I agree. He is such an unpleasant man…why does he even bother?" The blonde boy shrugged. His head whipped around to face Marianne, who was caught starring, her flute inches away from her mouth. The boy smiled. "Bravo," and threw a couple of coins towards her.

Marianne stared for a few more seconds before blinking and turning away. He was an attractive boy…

_See the finest girl in France_

_Make an entrance to entrance_

_Dance La Esmeralda…DANCE!_

Marianne saw Esmeralda up on the stage, dancing beautifully. She actually went up to Frollo and sat on his lap. His lap! She just toyed with most dangerous man in Paris. She noticed that it wasn't exactly a smart move. When Esmeralda finished her dance, she bowed, Clopin next to her.

_Here it is the moment you've been waiting for_

_Here it is you know exactly what's in store! _

_Now's the time to laugh until our sides get sore_

_Now's the time to crown the King of Fools! _

_You all remember last year's King? _Marianne saw a plump, older man with a half-empty bottle of rum in his hands being carried through the crowd. He let out a revolting belch and the crowd cheered.

"That is positively disgusting," she said.

"Indeed," a voice behind her said. She spun around to see the blonde boy from earlier. She only stared at him, while his smile faltered. "Permit me, my name's Gavin. I'm apprenticed over at the blacksmith's." Marianne nodded and he chuckled, "Might I know your name?"

"Oh! Marianne, my name's Marianne."

"That's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

She blushed, "Thank you, Gavin is also a nice name."

…_For the face that's ugliest will be the King of Fools!_

_Why?_

Clopin put his hand to his ear and did a back flip, laughing somewhat manically and winking at Marianne.

"And that's my brother…"

"Charming fellow," he said, laughing.

"Gavin! Get over here! You can't just run off like that, man!"

Gavin sighed, "That is my cousin, Marcello. He's new to the city; he was born and raised out in the countryside."

Just then the tall, red haired boy ran up to Gavin. He was scrawny and had long arms with large hands. His pale green eyes darted from person to person and his freckled cheeks were a deep red.

"God Lord Gavin, don't _do_ that. There are too many people in this city for my taste and it's easy to get lost."

"Oh cousin, enjoy the festival! Here, let me introduce you to someone. Marcello, this is Marianne, she's dancing in the festival today."

Marcello eyed her for a while, "Pleasure to meet you." His eyes scanned her up and down and his nose wrinkled. To Gavin he whispered, "Cousin, do you know that you are speaking with a gypsy?" Gavin nodded. "Lord in heaven! Gavin, they are thieves and cutpurses. They travel across country and take whatever they can find!"

"Well, here there are many gypsies that live inside the city walls. And I for one do not believe they steal." Marcello rolled his eyes. "Besides," he said loudly, "Marianne is a wonderful dancer and a beautiful young lady, eh?" he poked his cousin in the side with his elbow and waggled his eyebrows, his large brown eyes twinkling.

"You give me too much credit, Gavin."

"Do I now?" he smiled widely.

Marianne was about to answer when total silence fell on the crowd. A few gasps were let out and people were staring, wide-eyed, at the stage. There stood Quasimodo, hunched over and hiding his face.

"That's no mask!" someone shouted.

"It's his face…" a woman buried her face in a man's shirt.

"He's hideous!" Marianne felt her hands ball up into fists.

"It's the bell ringer from Notre Dame!" a man pointed at the stage, mouth agape.

"Bloody hell, it's him," Gavin whispered to Marianne.

"Who?" Marcello was peering at the stage, brow furrowed.

"The bell ringer. It's said that Frollo took him in years ago, when he was a baby. He's got a hunchback and a horrible face deformity. Now he lives in the tower, hiding himself from the world."

"What on Earth is he doing _here_ then?"

"I have no idea, cousin," Gavin was standing on his toes, trying to get a better view. Marianne slowly made her way to the stage, ready to tell Clopin to call everything off.

"Ladies and Gentleman, don't panic! We asked for the ugliest face in Paris and here it is! Quasimodo the Hunchback of Notre Dame!" She stopped dead in her tracks.

_Everybody!_

_Once a year we throw a party here in town_

_Hail to the King…_

Marianne tried to get to her brother, but it was no use, he was lost in the crowd.

"Marianne! Wait!" she heard Gavin behind her. "My, you sure are a fast one, where are you going?" she slumped her shoulders in defeat.

"I guess nowhere."

"Great! Then would you mind joining Marcello and I at the tavern?"

"Well, I suppose so. Sure, why not?"

"Wonderful! I will see you there then!" he smiled winningly and dragged his cousin back into the crowd.

When Marianne finally turned back to Quasimodo, she saw that somebody had thrown a tomato at his face. People laughed and began throwing vegetables and rocks at him. She gasped and tried to get up to the stage, pushing past people and guards alike.

"Hey! Stop it!" she knocked a cabbage out of a man's hand and he backslapped her across the face.

"Ah, ya' little smut…" he muttered, while picking up the remains of the vegetable.

Ropes were now tying Quasimodo down to the small stage he was on. His shirt was ripped and he was yelling at the crowd while being spun around. A few yards away, Marianne heard a man speak to Frollo.

"Master, please help me!" Quasimodo was yelling to him and he turned away!

"Sir, request permission to stop this cruelty." the man said.

"In a moment, Captain…a lesson needs to be learned today." Marianne spun around and faced Frollo dead on, her face red.

"You wretched man! You horrid, vile, cruel fiend! You are a heartless monster!" she yelled to Frollo, who narrowed his eyes at her. "How dare you do this to him!"

"Oi!" A guard was next to her, blocking her view, "You best be moving, gypsy," he threatened.

"You are as bad as him! Wretched bastards you all are," she shouted while being shoved away.

Again, there was dead silence in the crowd. Marianne turned to the stage to see Esmeralda ascending the steps, taking off her shawl. Her face was wary, but kind as she bent down and whispered something to him.

"You!" Frollo yelled, "Gypsy girl, come down at once!"

"Yes your honor, just as soon as I free this poor creature," she said back to him.

"I forbid it."

She pulled out her knife and slit the ropes, staring at Frollo defiantly. "How dare you defy me!" he snarled, pointing at her.

"You mistreat this poor boy the same way you mistreat my people. You speak of justice, yet you are cruel to those in need of your help."

"Silence!"

"Justice!" Esmeralda punched her fist in the air. Uh-oh.

"Mark my words, gypsy, you _will _pay for this insolence!"

"Then it appears we've crowned the wrong fool…" she took the King of Fools crown, "the only fool I see, is you!" she tossed the hat in the air and it landed a few feet away from Frollo, who was seething at this point.

Behind Marianne, three guards were closing in and she decided to get out as quickly as possible. She pushed her way through the crowd as Esmeralda began crying and pulled out a handkerchief. She blew her nose in it and disappeared in a puff of smoke. She always did like theatrics…

"Mari," a hand was on her shoulder. "Marianne, come. We must leave." Clopin had a look of concern on his face.

"What about Esmeralda? And Quasimodo?"

"Esmeralda can take care of herself," however, his face was unsure. "Quasimodo will have to face this on his own, unfortunately."

"Clopin!"

"No. That is final. Come, we are going home. Now."

"But--" Clopin shot her a look that immediately silenced her. Then Marianne thought of Gavin and her promise. "Wait! I promised a friend something, I have to tell them that I can't meet them."

"Oh no, we are going home."

"But…but…he'll think I left him there! That's rude!"

"And you know what else is rude? Not listening to your brother."

"Clopin, I have to tell him," she looked up at him, "please?"

He stared down at her, but the frown remained on his face. "I am sorry, we need to leave. Right now."

With that, he dragged his sister across the square and into the graveyard. When they reached the Court, Esmeralda was not there. Clopin and Marianne were getting worried.

"Where is she? Why isn't she back?"

"I don't know, I don't know." His face contorted with worry.

"Clopin," Ishmael Gregor came over to them, "I have received word from others. Esmeralda claimed sanctuary in Notre Dame. Guards are posted at every door; she cannot leave."

"No…"

"I'm sorry, we can only hope for the best."

"Clopin? Esmeralda is in trouble, isn't she?" Marianne asked after Ishmael left.

"She will be fine, she's a strong one."

"I hope so."

Was Esmeralda ever coming home? Marianne fled to her tent, on the verge of tears. What if she didn't?

* * *

**Well, there it is! Hope ya'll enjoyed it and remember, review! Comments really do help guys! **

**Adios mis muchachos/muchachas!**

**SpeakUpAndFaceTheMusic**


End file.
